Luck, Doubt, Pain, BLOOD
by SneverusSnapers
Summary: The regrets of a dying tribute.  One-shot.  Luck - There was never any, from the moment that slip of paper was lifted out of that reaping ball. Doubt - How much more can there be? Pain - A fire coursing through your soul, and then there's BLOOD.


**Disclaimer: Do I own the hunger games triology? If only! But I'm sure Suzanne Collins will soon pass all the rights and everything to me if she reads anything I write, so soon I will, and I'll make everyone pay me who writes a fanfiction hunger games and forgets to put a disclaimer so start disclaiming all YOUR hunger games stories, because here I come! :-)**

_Luck._

How I hate that word. How it portrays so much and yet it does to little. I used to live on that word, it was what kept me alive, but now I don't have any trust in it whatsoever. After I got reaped I was doubtful, but I decided it was BAD luck which had brought me here. Here, lying on the floor in a pool of my own blood, my life force slowly ebbing away from me.

So I have decided there is no such thing, because if there was I would be so angry at it the I'd probably die sooner then I already am, though that might save the pain that is pouring through my body at the moment, destroying my very soul as I sit here, waiting for the end to come to me. I don't blame my attacker, it wasn't his fault that he stabbed me, this is the hunger games after all, the games where murder and drinking are on the same level, both are critical for your survival.

I can't lose conciousness, because if I do I know I'll die, just like all the others. I have already killed one. An eye for an eye, as they say. If you kill someone then it's fair enough that someone kills you. Is it? One person will live, against all the odds. One family will rejoice while twenty three others mourn. Luck is definatly overated, never mind over subscribed.

Take my advice, give up on luck on hope and dreams. Just embrace what you have and take the world as it comes to you, don't spend your time waiting for something good to happen, because it never will. In the end the is just blood, or in my case there isn't. Blood is something you can trust, blood is something which keeps you alive and then ends your days. Blood is something that will always be with you. Luck, however, is not always present.

_Doubt._

Stupid, stupid me. Now I feel my brain flickering through all the things I've done in my life, or rather, haven't. There's no way I can change it but still I dream. Still I dream of a better life for me and my family. Slowly I've managed to train anything that begins with 'what if...' out of my thoughts. Yet still the hunger games have brought it back.

My body is numb and my brain is overactive. Why did I refuse to see my family, saying 'I'll see them in a few weeks anyway'. Of course I won't. Now I'm regretting that too. Every morsel of my existence is being drained away with the blood, washed out of my mind and soul.

Why wasn't I kind? I was horrible, mean and cruel, never understanding anything anyone did to me. I should have treated people with respect and been thankful to them for what they were doing to me. But instead I just abandoned their feelings and left them to rot. But look at who's rotting now. I can see my sisters, taunting me, laughing at home, happy, so happy.

Yet everyone is watching, everyone can see. If only I could change that. If only... It's pointless. I'm dying. In a few minutes the only thing left of me in the world will be wild dreams, never fulfilled, left floating around, left by my body as it is hipped back home and buried, flung into the family grave without a memo or anything. Soon I'll be forgotten.

_Pain._

This is it, I'm burning like a fire all over, though I'm stiff and ice cold. My hands have clammed up and all hope of a peceful death has retreated, replaced with scrabbling claws and viscious fangs, scraping away at my skin. All I can think, all I can feel is pain, coursing through what remains of my blood like poison.

I'm itching, my skin feels as if it is beingpricked by a million tiny needles, each one drawing blood. Each one having a message of it's own. I can feel my skin tightening and my flesh bulging, just thinking uses up every morsel of energy left. My hands are clammy with sweat and my face is laced by a fever.

I'm twisting around on the floor, writhing in agony. Maybe if I move I can escape the hunter slowly teasing me, slowly torturing me. But when I move I just shift onto another bed of nails, another pit of regret and sorrow, of pure pain.

Spots dance in front of my eyes and everything turns upside down, twirling around this way and that – my focus is drifting. I bite my lip and blood courses out, filling my mouth with the bitter rust taste of defeat. Soon I'll be dead, soon I'll leave this place forever, and there is no chance of any life beyond this, all there can be is black, peace, a cease to this endless tortue, tearing me to shreds with every second of conciousness. That's it. There's only one thing left now.

_BLOOD._

**Yes, I know it's like 'Blizzard of Emotions', it's just I wanted to go deeper into a tribute's thoughts then I did in that fanfiction story. **

**I still don't own the Hunger Games after writing this, but I'm working on it. You never know, soon a GIGANTIC bill might just turn up in your house with YOUR name on it... (_mwahahaha_!)**

**Also PLEASE review, (I LOVE reviews, I might even read some of your fics and check ifthey have a diclaimer on them :-) )... and tell me if it's an embarresment and to get it down before anyone else sees it, please, because I've already suffered through having one embarresing fic up and don't want to make it two!**

**Oh yes... If you're reading this and you liked it (which I very much doubt) then I've got a VERY similar one and a longer story about the hunger games if you'd be interested in reading them. :-) PLEASE REVIEW! By now there's probably more authors notes then the actual story, in which case I apologise, but i'm trying to get it over 1,000 words! :-)**


End file.
